


sit here and watch the sunlight fade

by acemartinblackwood (semnai)



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Background Lonely Eyes, Canon Asexual Character, M/M, canon-typical Elias creepiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-05
Updated: 2020-02-05
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:02:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22566745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/semnai/pseuds/acemartinblackwood
Summary: He wasn’t particularly enthused about going out tonight to this opera, but Elias had insisted, said to think of it as a year-end bonus, a reward for all his hard work this year in his new position as Head Archivist. Jon wasn’t sure he deserved it though, despite all the hours he had put in and then some, because the archives were still a disaster. But, Jon supposed, as long as Elias was happy, he couldn’t be doing that terrible of a job. And if agreeing to going to an opera for one night made the head of the Institute happy, that was fine with him.OR Elias instigates awkward situations and thoroughly enjoys himself.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims, Elias Bouchard/Peter Lukas, Peter Lukas & Jonathan Sims
Comments: 10
Kudos: 87
Collections: The Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020





	sit here and watch the sunlight fade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Basilrants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Basilrants/gifts).



> I have some thank you's for some super nice people, but I'll edit this after the reveal with their names. But you know who you are and thank you so much!!!
> 
> I guess this is technically an AU, takes place in early s1.

Jon adjusted his bow tie and smoothed out the front of his button-down shirt for what had to be the fourth time. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t particularly enthused about going out tonight to this opera, but Elias had insisted, said to think of it as a year-end bonus, a reward for all his hard work this year in his new position as Head Archivist. Jon wasn’t sure he deserved it though, despite all the hours he had put in and then some, because the archives were _still_ a disaster. But, Jon supposed, as long as Elias was happy, he couldn’t be doing _that_ terrible of a job. And if agreeing to going to an opera for one night made the head of the Institute happy, that was fine with him.

Finally, feeling like he had procrastinated enough, Jon slipped on his coat, and headed out of his flat to take the tube to Covent Garden.

The theater was glitzy, all bright gold lights and plush red velvet, and Jon felt wholly out of place. He had never been one for posh events like this. Even at Oxford he had really tried to avoid the crowd that took pleasure in peacocking at high-minded functions like operas and ballets. Georgie had dragged him to an Oxford Philharmonic Orchestra concert or two, which he had to admit were nice, but that was about his limit.

Thankfully, Elias was waiting near the entrance in the foyer, stepping forward with a satisfied smile when he spotted Jon. He looked immaculate, as always. Tonight, he glittered with his surroundings, dressed in a smartly tailored charcoal gray suit, dark green tie and pocket square, and simple, silver earrings. “Jon. There you are,” he said blithely, his eyes affixed on Jon, and offered his arm. “Thought I might miss you in the crowd.”

Jon felt a jolt of panic, as he rapidly looked at Elias, down at his arm, back at Elias. He couldn’t be… no, but he was. Feeling stuck, Jon slipped his arm around Elias’ and Elias pulled Jon closer.

“Y—yes, I—I tried to get here early, but it seems, ah, it seems most people had the same plan.”

“Oh you know how it is with these things,” Elias said breezily, “the opera itself is just an afterthought, the real reason to make an appearance is to socialize and gossip.”

“Are _we_ here to socialize?” Jon asked, his question coming out slightly more cross then he had intended.

Elias just laughed, and Jon fidgeted slightly, his brow creasing when he realized he wasn’t going to get an answer.

“Have you seen Faust before, Jon?” Elias asked, his arm around Jon’s shifting until it was wrapped around Jon’s waist instead. Jon frowned slightly at the feeling of Elias’ hand on the small of his back, but didn’t pull away.

“I, ah, no. I have not. I know the general plot, though.”

“This production should be passable. Its over-performed so I usually avoid it. Consequently, its been a while since I saw it last.”

“You come here often?” Jon asked, gesturing around the general area.

“Enough,” Elias said simply, with a shrug. “Though,” he continues, almost to himself, watching a young couple pass them, the man’s shoulder bumping up against Jon slightly, “It has changed _considerably_.” As he watched the couple walk away, a nearly indiscernible emotion, perhaps disgust, flashed across Elias’ face.

Jon had no idea what to say to that, and struggled for several moments on how to pick up the conversation. However, Elias finally broke the silence. “We should head to our seats, shouldn’t we?” Jon nodded gratefully; the crowds and the resulting noise in the main foyer was getting to be too much for him.

Elias led Jon towards the growing crowd of people, and after Elias let their tickets on his phone be scanned, they were ushered inside. Jon continued to try to follow the crowd, but Elias’ hand slipped to his hip and squeezed, stopping him.

Jon looked over questioningly. “Wha--”

“We’re not with general admission, we have a private upper box. This way,” he said crisply, leading Jon to an elevator.

On the elevator, which seemed to Jon to move inordinately slow, Elias turned to face Jon, one hand brushing up his arm, before pushing an errant curl out of Jon’s face and behind his ear. “There.” Elias met his eyes, giving him another pleased smile, before placing a hand on his upper arm. “This color is very becoming on you by the way, Jon.” Jon could feel his face turning red, despite his best efforts.

“Uh, thanks?” he said, his voice wavering with distrust. In addition to trying not to blush, he was now valiantly attempting to not wince. Georgie had always said he was terrible at reading people; it was especially hard for him to tell when he was getting hit on. And he knew people sometimes thought he was flirting when he was just trying to be friendly for once. But. But. W _as his boss currently flirting with him_? Jon knew that Elias’ hand on his back earlier was a bit too touchy, but it was fine. He was fine. Maybe that’s just the kind of guy Elias was, he had no idea. He hadn’t actually interacted with Elias much out of occasional office or archive visits. And it was _completely_ out of the question that he enjoyed the attention, that would just be pathetic. And anyway, Elias was his _boss,_ _for christsakes,_

Once the elevator finally arrived, he and Elias stepped out and Elias led him down the hallway, hand returning to the small of his back. Elias stopped in front of one of the private box entrances, eyeing the number on the side. “Hm, here we are. Why don’t you head inside? I will be there shortly. Oh, and by the way, this is a box of one of the institute’s benefactors. If they’re there, though I’m positive I don’t need to say this, _please be civil_.”

And before Jon could protest, Elias was gone.

Jon hesitated; he could still feel the ghost of warmth from Elias’ hand on his back. But with that guiding hand gone, he felt disoriented, dread taking root in his gut at the thought of having to walk into that room alone, especially if someone that important to the Institute is really there.

There was nothing to do though except just keep moving forward with the stubborn hope he’d come out on the other side relatively unscathed. Or at least with his reputation intact. He stepped through the door of the box, and blinked as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. Inside, the box was nearly empty, save for one man. Jon peered over; from what Jon could see, the man was elegantly dressed in a stormy gray suit, with a dark blue cravat, and matching gray hair pulled back into a bun. Jon cleared his throat.

The man might have jumped, Jon honestly wasn’t sure. It felt cooler in here, and quieter than he would have expected with the bustle of people in general admission trying to find the seats below.

“Uh, sorry. I’m with Elias? He said, well I hope this is the right box. I assume it is. He had to go—somewhere? He said a benefactor of the Institute may be here. I, ah, I assume that’s you?”

The man didn’t speak at first, but turned fully to face Jon, looking him up and down. “Hmph.” The man shook his head, with a small, sharp smile on his face. “Elias.”

“I’m—I’m Jon. Jonathan Sims.” He stepped forward and held out his hand. The man, eyebrows raised, looked at his hand, looked back at him, looked at the hand, and... leaned back into his seat.

“Charmed, I’m sure. May I hazard a guess you’re the Archivist?”

“Ah,” Jon pulled his hand back, as smoothly as he could, to rub the back of his neck. “The new Head Archivist, yes.”

“Hm,” the man said, and then very quietly to himself, “Elias always liked his little jokes.”

“Excuse m--”

“Why don’t you sit right here?” he said, gesturing to the seat next to him.

“Oh, um, okay.”

After a minute or so of silence, Jon felt like he was going to jump out of his skin. The man had just continued to stare straight ahead or look through his program, paying Jon no mind.

Finally, Jon couldn’t take it anymore. “Forgive me, but who are you exactly? You—ah--you didn’t say.”

The man blinked, slowly, before looking over at Jon, the smile back on his face, this time a little less sharp. “You were correct in your supposition before, I am one of the Institute’s benefactors.”

“But--”

“How are you liking the position, Archivist?” he interrupted, still smiling, tone as welcoming as a hotel receptionist. It made Jon want to shiver, and not just because the unnatural coolness in the room. “What does Elias have you doing, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Jon had to suppress the urge to argue and demand a name. He didn’t know why it was so important, but somehow the fact that the man didn’t want to tell him made it so.

“Its, ah, fine. I have been reorganizing the archives. My predecessor left it in an _awful_ mess.”

“Reorganizing?” the man said, almost to himself again, with a small laugh. Once again, Jon didn’t feel like he got the joke. “That’s what Elias has you working on? Very odd. Not surprised about the state of those archives though, your predecessor was a bit preoccupied with _other_ concerns.”

“Sorry, did you know--”

“Ah, Peter, lovely to see you again.” Elias sauntered into the box, holding two glasses of dark red wine. Jon felt a wave of relief; he was no longer stuck in a conversation with a complete stranger and now he had some alcohol to face this unnerving social situation.

“Elias,” Peter said, still friendly, but now beneath that cheerful veneer, he was perhaps cautious, just a tad caustic. “Nice of you to bring company.”

Jon suddenly had a funny feeling that this Peter had no earthly idea Elias had invited him. He may have had no idea Elias was coming at all. Wonderful.

Elias walked around to their aisle, handed Jon one of the glasses, and sat on his other side.

Jon took a sip, ignoring the bitterness of the wine in favor of being thankful there was some alcohol. “Thank you.”

“Of course, Jon.” Elias angled himself towards Jon and Peter, and then very deliberately placed his right hand on Jon’s, which was resting on his leg. Peter raised his eyebrows as he followed Elias’ movement. Jon had to very consciously not squirm away from the warm hand. Its not that it was unpleasant; he was just not used to these types of casual touches, not since Georgie…

“I’m so pleased you could meet Jon, Peter. Its not too often that one is able to snag such bright, young talent, which is essential for such an important position at the Institute. I _do_ like showing him off.”

Peter, almost imperceptibly, sighed. “Congratulations are in order, then.”

“Quite,” Elias said, smiling at Jon and raising his glass.

Jon rather wished he could disappear on the spot, his hand holding his wine glass clutching it a bit too hard as he clinked it against Elias’.

“Thank you—ah, for the opportunity,” Jon attempted, feeling a bit like a broken record at this point.

“Now, Peter, how are things going with your, hm, business?”

“Oh,” Peter asked pleasantly, “you don’t know?”

“Why else would I ask, Peter-dear.”

“That is an _excellent_ question.”

Although they were both conversing civilly, smiles and all, even Jon couldn’t help but notice an underlying frostiness to the whole interaction.

Thankfully, _finally_ , the lights began to dim, and Jon could focus on the opera instead of whatever, um, _history_ the two men next to him had with each other. Well, he tried to focus on the opera at least, despite Elias rubbing slow, gentle circles with his thumb over Jon’s inner wrist. Despite Elias leaning in, his lips at Jon’s ear, to whisper obscure information about the production, the opera’s history, or the soprano's personal life. It was all, honestly, oddly relaxing, and though Jon didn’t really want to analyze why, he couldn’t help but lean into it. Losing himself in Elias’ hushed tone, the words curling like smoke through his thoughts, the warm breath at his ear, and the hand on his were a welcome counterpoint to the unusually cold box.

Sooner than he would have expected, the stage lights dimmed and the theater lights flooded his vision, signaling intermission. Elias gently picked up Jon’s hand, holding it in both of his. He had apparently finished his wine at some point during the first act.

“Jon,” Elias said warmly, shifting in his seat towards Jon. “What do you think so far?”

Jon swallowed. Right. The opera they were attending. Because he couldn’t honestly say much watching happened. “It, ah, w—was good so far, very good. I, um, liked,” Jon paused, remembering something Elias had whispered to him about the costume designer being brought in from France, “the costumes? Lovely detailing.”

“Ah, yes, excellent eye. How about you, Peter?”

Peter hardly turned his head, just flicking his eyes their direction, and then gave a shrug. “Eh.”

“Oh come on Peter,” Elias enjoined, in a tone that was clearly, at least to Jon, an attempt to needle Peter (though why he’d want to was beyond Jon). “I’m sure you have some thoughts you’d like to share.”

“Oh, do I,” Peter said flatly. “Hm.” He turned towards Jon, a smile flashing on his face, as sudden as it was unwelcome. Jon startled. “Would it be too much to ask for you to go get us three Merlots?”

Jon glanced at Elias, but Elias still smiling mildly, clearly unconcerned. “Excellent idea, Peter. Here.” And Elias pulled out a wallet from his coat pocket, fishing out a hundred pound note, and handed it to Jon. “Would you be a dear and please order three more glasses? Except make mine a Riesling.”

Jon, eager to get out of the room, just grabbed the note, nodded his acquiescence, and managed to calmly walk out. What the hell was that?

The line at the bar was fairly long, and by the time he had gotten their drinks and paid, by his estimate, there was only a minute or so left before the second act started. Thank god. He wasn’t sure he could stand the unspoken tension between Elias and Peter much longer.

Stepping back into the box, things at first glance looked pretty much as how he had left it: Elias smiling amicably, Peter staring straight ahead. Except his wine glass, which had been mostly empty, was laying on its side, red wine seeping into the plush carpet. His heavy coat, which had been on the back of his seat, was now laying crumpled on the ground behind the chair. Elias’ hair appeared mussed, and his tie loosened, askew. As soon as Jon registered this, Elias ran his fingers through his hair, in an apparent attempt to tame the wayward blonde strands, and straightened his tie. Peter appeared relatively unchanged, except his collar was out of place.

What. The. Fuck. _Something_ had happened while he was gone, but before he could even think about questioning anything, Elias was leaning forward to take his glass.

“There you are, Jon. I had been getting quite worried. Needlessly it turns out. Thank you for getting those for us.”

“Just a long line at the bar, Elias. Sorry.”

“Aye, thanks,” Peter said, with a small nod of his head. “We were starting to think you had gotten lost.” Peter chuckled, a dry, bland thing, as he took his glass from him.

Careful with his own glass, Jon picked up his coat before he finally sat back down. As if on cue the lights dimmed again, and a spotlight focused on a lone singer on stage as the second half began. Elias didn’t take his hand this time, his lips didn’t ghost his ear. They sat like three people watching an opera. Jon fruitlessly tried not to miss the warmth, clutching his own wine glass like a lifeline. He didn’t even like wine, honestly; but both Peter and Elias seemed to enjoy it so he hadn’t wanted to say anything. However, as always, instead of easing his anxiety, trying to fit in just made him even more uncomfortable and stressed.

The second half was thankfully more enjoyable than the first, in Jon’s opinion, but he couldn’t say he wasn’t the least bit displeased when the curtain finally fell. His mind kept wandering to the thought of arriving home, of getting out of these uncomfortable clothes, and maybe working or curling up with one of his many half-read books.

“Lovely. Absolutely lovely,” Elias said, pressing his hands together. Out of the corner of his eye, Jon saw Peter roll his eyes. Below, the general audience began standing up, stretching, and slowly making their way out of the theater.

Jon felt his anxiety once again peak as silence stretched out between them, as he scrambled to think of something to say.

“Uh yes. It was—it was nice.” Jon cleared his throat. “Thanks again, Elias, for inviting me.”

“My pleasure, Jon.” Elias stood up and held out his hand to Jon. Jon, after a second hesitation, took it and let himself be pulled up. Elias’ hand slid around his waist with practiced ease as he nodded towards Peter. “It was delightful seeing you again, Peter. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again, soon.”

Peter laughed. “Yes, I have no doubt.”

Elias and him stood there for a moment, before Elias lightly squeezed at his waist, a silent admonishment. Shit.

“It—it was nice meeting you, Peter.”

But Peter was already looking away, out at the soon-to-be empty theater, and didn’t respond. As Jon followed Peter’s gaze, it didn’t seem there was much to look at; only a few patrons remained by this point, and ushers were starting to clean the aisles. The room, which had hovered on the wrong side of “comfortably cool” all night, was starting to feel even colder. Jon pulled his jacket, which had been held loosely in his arms, closer to his chest.

Jon glanced over to Elias, who just smiled back like this was completely normal. “Wonderful. Shall we?” Elias gestured towards the door, but didn’t wait for Jon to respond, once again guiding him forward with a hand on his back.

Just outside the theater Elias stopped him and, with a gentle but firm hand, lead him to a small alcove.

“Humor me for just a little longer,” Elias said, his normally bland smile stretching to what he probably thought was a reassuring grin. He placed a hand on Jon’s shoulder, a warm, solid weight that a part of Jon still helplessly gravitated towards. “I wanted to thank you again for coming tonight. I know this isn’t how you usually prefer spending your Saturday nights, but for what its worth--” Elias leaned in, pressing a kiss to Jon’s cheek. “I had a lovely time, with you here.”

Jon’s cheeks burned, especially where Elias’ lips had touched. “...Right. Uh. Thanks again.” As Elias pulled away, Jon could feel Elias’ warm breath ghost his skin, and something about the intimacy of it clawed at Jon, a wild, helpless thing.

“The pleasure was _all_ mine.” Elias lightly squeezed his shoulder and, with a bow of his head, he walked away, disappearing quicker than Jon would have expected into the crowd.

Brow furrowed, Jon instinctively hunched his shoulders and buried his hands in his pockets as he attempted to make sense of what had just happened with Elias. No way around it, the night had been baffling to say the least. And that didn’t even factor in what the hell had Elias even brought him into with the other man, Peter. He started to slowly make his way towards the station, lost in thought. There was no way around it, Jon finally determined as he swiped his oyster card, Elias was _infuriating_. And, as much as he hated to admit it, the extent of which he had been craving affection was apparently much, much worse than he would have ever guessed. It might be time to finally to adopt a cat.

**Author's Note:**

> Really hope you enjoyed!!! I had _so_ much fun writing Elias and Peter.


End file.
